


Nothing is sacred

by Spacecarrots



Series: When in a Gestalt [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Again sort of, Coming Out, Family Drama, Fluff and Humor, Hot spot can't keep secrets, Imagine your OTP, M/M, One Shot, Silverbolt is a shit for puns, Skyfire just wanted to go on holiday, Valentine's Day Fluff, i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 02:00:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4769351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacecarrots/pseuds/Spacecarrots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, how do you tell your family that that guy, you swear you hated, and almost killed multiple times is now your bf???</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing is sacred

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this but then got out of hand: http://mooglebilbo.tumblr.com/post/123650607314/imagine-your-otp

Blades is not a morning person. Never has been, never will be. Hot spot will tell you, with a great amount of annoyance, how hard it is to get the copter out of bed at reasonable hours. How you would have more luck getting blood out of stone than Blades out of bed before noon, and if you somehow managed to get him out without loss of limb, you’d then have to keep him up long enough for him to actually attain full awareness. They decided that it was fair to turn to drawing straws. Or large pieces of wire in the giant robot case. This morning it fell on Streetwise, who stared at the wire in shock. The reason for the mornings suicide mission was that Hot spot, a large fire engine living in a cramped little shed of a fire house had put together a “team activity” session. Or to translate; Hot spot needs to be walked, because Hot spot is tired of being inside, also “I don’t want to go alone, Please?” And if the big optics and field nudges didn’t put the nail in the figurative or perhaps soon to be literal coffin. So Streetwise drew the short straw with determination and suddenly the thought of revenge.

“Why are you smiling?” First Aid asked cautiously, looking the police car over, as if checking for a head wound. The cop car grinned with an undertone of cunning.

“Dude no.” Groove said softly. “He said he was sorry, man.”

“Sorry about what?” Hot spot asked, watching Streetwise rush over to Blades' quarters.

“Blades totally trash talked Chinatown.” Groove added. He watched with the others as Streetwise grabbed the bottom of the large red garage doors.

“The one we watched with Jack Nicholson?” Groove nodded. It was locked, that made sense. Streetwise pulled out the wire that had set him on this mission.

“Yeah, where he’s a private investigator. It’s one of his favourites.” They all watched as Streetwise laid down on the firehouse floor and stuck his wire into the lock and listened carefully.

“They’re always a private investigator.” There was a small _**clunk**_  as the lock fell off. Streetwise stood, took a moment to compose himself and prepared to add this moment to his long term memory banks. He heaved the garage door upward, and it clattered against the ceiling then strode in yelling,

“Rise and shine sleeping beauty!” The others heard a few metal clangs of Streetwise’s claps, a low groan, and then,

“What the frag, afthole?” Not from Blades. Blades was limited to grumbling and sarcasm during early morning calls. Neither was it Streetwise. Streetwise was highly against curse words and vulgar language. Also Streetwise was walking out of Blades’ room with a servo over mouth, and his optics bright and wide with embarrassment. He hastily walked back over to the others, who all started at him with a collective looks of concern.

“I need new optics.” He mumbled into his servos. Through their gestalt link they could all feel Streetwise’s mortification, fear, and awkwardness.

“What are you talking about?” Hot spot asked, worried now. Streetwise looked pale as if the sight was dawning on him.

“Did you see his spike again?” First aid offered. “It’s okay, we’ve all got one, and Blades isn’t shy.” Streetwise starred at him wide optic'd.

“I didn’t see his spike! I-I don’t know what I saw.” He stuttered. Hot spot, Groove, and First Aid exchanged glances, before Hot spot, as the leader of his team, took it upon himself to solve this mystery. He marched into the small dark room and flipped on the light. The others following in step. In the little berth, among the mess of junk, there was a small groan and a shift of systems. It wasn’t until the other Protectobots walked in that Hot spot finally realised he’d BSOD’d and had been standing there for a solid 5 minutes.

“I need to sit down.” Hot spot finally said when First aid brought him back online.

* * *

 

It was 12:01pm, perfect timing, when Blades finally started to come around from the land of nod. He made no attempt to move, but slowly let all his systems online one by one, comfortable in the heat of Slingshot’s systems. Slingshot had his arms wrapped around Blades’ helm protectively as he snored gently. Blades helm rest between Slingshot’s neck cables and shoulder, one leg draped over his while an arm possessively curled around a wing. Happily, Blades took advantage of his current position and dragged his lips along the bearings of Slingshot’s neck, nuzzling it, kissing it, and then taking one of the cables between his lips and sucking hard. Slingshot’s snoring quickly came to a holt and turned into groggy moaning. Once Blades was satisfied that it would leave a prominent hickey, he continued to pepper kisses down the seams of Slingshot’s neck where he knew the jet was deadly ticklish.

“Nooo Blades stop it.” The harrier squirmed, desperately trying to stifle giggles. “You know I’m-pfft-”

Slingshot’s laughing stopped immediately as he flinched away. He gathered up the sheets and tried to cover his frame as much as possible, like he’d been caught doing something unthinkable. Oblivious, and still half asleep, Blades tried to work his digits between the covers to get to Slingshot’s weak spots, laughing drowsy and manically . This effort was stopped immediately however when Slingshot callously batted his servo away.

“Babe, what the hell?” Blades exclaimed, glaring at Slingshot a moment before realising the jets direction of frown. He followed his line of sight to where Groove, Streetwise, First Aid, and Hot spot, slept, huddled together on the floor of Blades’ room. Blades send a buzz of confusion and irritation through their bond. Soon optics started flickering online and they rested on Blades and Slingshot.

“Hi.” First aid smiled in a small sleepy voice.

“Yeah, uh hi.” Blades retorted sceptically. “Is there a reason why you’re all sleeping on my floor?” Hot spot huffed something close to ‘because the bed was taken.’ Before standing and offering him a grinning face mask.

“Hot spot wanted to go out, but then Streetwise drew the short straw.” Groove said, offering a servo to a freshly embarrassed Streetwise who avoided his gaze. Blades nodded his understanding. Slingshot on the other hand looked between them all in confusion as they all got up to leave, Blades included. He was stretching his systems with one pede dangling out of his berth when Slingshot blew his top.

“Wait, what? What’s going on?” He asked with a frown of irritation. Was this how they made other mechs feel? Rude much.

“Family meeting.” Blades smiled, prying Slingshot’s digits from the covers and lacing them with his own. Slingshot felt his faceplates heat and his optics spark. His spark gave a particularly heavy thump when the copter leaned over to kiss his cheek, making him very easy to drag out of berth and into the Protectobots common room. They sat on the sofa amongst the others, never dropping the others servo, despite Slingshot’s increased spark beat. Blades was very aware of how warm Slingshot’s servo was, and how tightly he held it.

“Slingshot.” Hot spot said finally, making the jets wings hinge up and brow knit.

“What?” He said firmly. Blades squeezed his servo, and received a shifty sideward glance. A tell tale sign of Fight or Flight Slingshot.

“Are you okay?” First aid asked him quietly on his left. Slingshot glared down at the smaller bot, though he was unfazed, only worried.

“Fine, what’s-why are you all staring at me like I’m going blow up?” He spat, and Blades sniggered. “What’re you laughing at?”

“You. Calm down, you’re not in trouble.” Blades smirked, sidling up the jet, who cautiously starred at the action and straightened and tightened his systems, the closer Blades got.

“We just want to know if you’re both safe.” Hot spot said with warmth. “So; protection?”

Blades heaved a sigh; “Standard coding and fire walls.”

“Talking.” Groove piped, Blades gave him a sideways smirk.

“Plenty.” Groove raised an optic ridge at Blades obvious pride in the word, and was actually impressed there was any at all.

“Consented?” First aid asked.

“Every time.” Blades said matter-of -factly, maybe a little more proudly that the talking.

“Slingshot?”

“W-what?”

“Do you ask me if I want to frag?” Blades asked with a cool, mischievous, grin. Slingshot nodded.

“We want a clear answer, Slingshot?” Streetwise said with folded arms, like a stern father figure. Blades rolled his optics at the clipped tone. It was much to early for that.

“Give him a brake he just woke up.” Blades retorted at the police car sharply, but Streetwise stood firm.

“I want a 'yes’ or 'no’, and he seems pretty awake to me.” Blades gave Slingshot a long suffering look, and gave his servos squeeze again.

“Uch, just say yes, top gun.”

“Don’t just tell him to say yes especially if he doesn’t mean it!” Streetwise interjected, his voice box raising several octaves. “I want to know if you say 'no’ he’ll stop, you could get hurt-!”

“-I’m not a fragile little coffee maker Streetwise I can take care of myself!”

“Clearly you can’t!”

“That’s enough yelling!” Hot spot shouted over the two. “Groove get the problem pillow.”

Blades let out a loud long pained groan and put his helm in his servos. “Not the problem pillow, anything but the problem pillow.” At this point Slingshot had gone from panic to being at an utter loss of the events unfolding around him, especially when Groove came back with a highly colourful, bedazzled, and tasseled, pillow he passed to Hot spot with a flick of the wrist.

“What’s the problem pillow?” Slingshot whispered to Blades, who was glaring through his digits at the smug looking Streetwise.

“Whoever holds this pillow, is aloud to speak their problem and only their problem.” Hot spot said calmly, before passing it to Streetwise who held it in his lap like a fragile trophy.

“This is so embarrassing.” Blades muttered, only to be shushed by everyone but Slingshot and Streetwise.

“I want Slingshot to say yes or no, to the question does he ask for consent? It’s important because sometimes Blades can be…too giving. And I don’t want him to get hurt.” Streetwise looked away at his last statement and handed the pillow back to Hot spot, glancing over at Blades.

“Blades?” Hot spot asked, passing him the pillow. Blades snatched it from his grip.

“This is stupid.” He mumbled and crushed the bright pillow in his lap. “I won’t get hurt, because if I didn’t want to /he would know/, besides he nodded which means exactly the same thing and I am not 'too giving’ whatever that means, Mr we’re just friends-”

“Hey this has nothing to do with him! Don’t change the subject. Slingshot do you or do you not ask Blades for consent before interface?” Streetwise yelled. The room was deadly silent as all optics turned to him again.

Slingshot hesitated. “No, I guess.” Blades facepalmed, made a very loud clank/ as his servo hit his helm.

“No, you guess?” First aid asked a little mournfully.

“Yeah cus’ one time…” Slingshot trailed off frowning. “Wait I don’t need to explain myself.”

“Oh god yes you do, you fragging idiot.” Blades huffed, slumping back against the sofa with a sigh.

“B-b-but Blades!” Slingshot squawked, then whispered. “That-it’s private stuff.”

“You should have thought of that before you got all honest on me. There’s no such thing as 'private’ here.” He gestured dumbly toward the others. “Remember like two seconds ago, when they slept on my floor?”

“Blades come on,” Hot spot frowned, “we’re just looking out for you. Be good and if you can’t be good?”

“Be safe.” Blades muttered dully, picking at a bead on the forgotten pillow, Groove prised it out of his grip, and passed it to Slingshot. Blades bit the inside of cheek, opting to fiddle with Slingshot’s servo instead.

“So, Slingshot, you were saying?” Hot spot asked and Slingshot’s mouth very suddenly went dry.

“Uh,” he cleared his throat. “Um one time-I didn’t hurt you did I?” Slingshot asked suddenly, very quietly. Blades chuffed.

“Not In the bad way, baby. Go on.” Blades smiled, causing Slingshot to gulp and try to steady himself.

“Well uh…One time I was just, I mean I really want to but Blades was mad at me because…because, so I just I just kissed-him-till-he-wasn’t-then-we-did-it-and-that-was-it-Blades-was-happy-again-and-that’s-all-that-matters-right?” Slingshot said it all so fast that he had to take a large was panting for air. Groove broke the silence with a loud “aww.” Which made Slingshot’s servos clench and optics flash a dangerous shade of deep orange.

“That’s adorable.” The bike continued. “You’re really sweet Slinger.”

“What? Am not!”

“Is that it? I was expecting at lease a scuffle Blades geez.” Streetwise said incredulously. “You had consent, if you hadn’t you’d have one less limb to worry about.” They all sniggered in agreement, Blades included. Then Hot spot suggested lunch and it was as if the morning hadn’t happened, or rather it had and it hadn’t been that big a deal.

It was after they’d had breakfast/lunch and a short session of story time, about how the hell this happened, because apparently this was unforeseen, before Slingshot made his was back to the main base. They were at the huge double doors of the firehouse when Blades turned him around with a gentle yank.

“Hey guess what?” Blades smirked. The sun hit them just right confirming Blades had the best smirk in the business.

“What?” He smiled back. Blades leaned in and captured Slingshot’s lips, leaving go his servos and pulling him closer by the waist. When Blades leaned back, optics heavily lidded and grinning Slingshot let out a small laugh. “Oh yeah.”

It took them around 20 minutes, until Slingshot finally left and the others found Blades leaning against the wall watching the trails of Slingshot’s exhaust paint the sky.

“So when are you going to tell the Aerials?” First aid asked in an all too chipper tone that made Blades good mood vanish along with the air in his vents.

“Te-t-tell the Aerials oh no. No no, he can do that allll by himself.”


End file.
